Missile Mill: Painting & Photography

4am, I woke up with my mind racing.Thinking about plums mostly.

In that moment before you take a bite, when you hold it up to the light, polish it on your shirt, beads of water clinging to the skin.

It is purple. A deep purple. Almost black purple. A waxy gray film making it dull in spots. Beneath the purple hide mottled sunset hues. Deeper within the skin an occasional streak of green or a splash of red. There’s a luster, a sheen, a glow, reflections all within the skin flecked with color. That thin, durable membrane that is perfectly resistant enough to protect what’s inside yet inviting enough to be deeply satisfying to bite into.

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